


Extended Transmission: Under the Table

by cybernya



Series: Translation Error [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23054737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybernya/pseuds/cybernya
Summary: NSFW. Wolffe and the Communications Officer have a little fun at 79's.
Relationships: CC-3636 | Wolffe/Original Character(s), CC-3636 | Wolffe/Reader
Series: Translation Error [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656553
Comments: 3
Kudos: 114





	Extended Transmission: Under the Table

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this drafted since I wrote the original chapter at 79's for Translation Error. I think the last edit date on the file was Jan. 25th before I worked on it this morning. Whoops.

79s is packed.

Wolffe leads you to his usual booth, a sly grin apparent as you weave your way through the crowd. It’s back away from prying eyes, and you settle in next to the commander easily.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you in close as a waitress brings over your usual drinks. 

You love when he gets this way, touchy and needy and full of adoration for you.

Three drinks later your lipstick is smeared across the commander’s lips and you’ve sunk under the table. You insisted you return the favor from earlier in the week, when on a relief mission to the planet of Osnas he made you see stars.

With the way the table is set up, along with the naturally low lighting of the bar, the only way anyone would  _ actually  _ see you is if they bent down and looked under the table. You found solace in that thought as you pulled away some of Wolffe’s armor, avoiding the sticky patches on the ground.

“Y’okay down there, alor’ika?” The commander mumbles loudly, a hand winding its way through your hair. 

“ ‘m fine,” you shout back over the music, leaning into the touch. Sure, being under a table at 79’s wasn’t the ideal place to give head, but you saw the opportunity and ran with it.

“Three taps, like normal,” Wolffe says, craning his head down to look at you. It was your sign, in case things became too much.

“Yes sir,” you reply, staring straight up at him. You feel his hand tighten in your hair for a moment - acknowledging him by title always pushes him a little bit closer to the edge. It makes you smirk, as you palm through his blacks at the obvious erection. 

He keens at the touch, hips rolling for more contact and you giggle quietly. You can’t have your playful banter tonight, so instead you focus on quite literally blowing his mind. You grasp him through the material, your hand running up and down his length as you rest your head on his thigh. It wasn’t a comfortable spot, but it was better than hitting the table constantly.

Wolffe takes a tentative sip from his drink, peering down under the table. His heart thrums in his chest nervously - what if someone  _ sees _ ? Then he vaguely remembers the fact that  _ ARC Trooper Fives _ had gotten away with similar acts in a much more obvious place and felt at ease. If  _ Fives _ could get away with it, so could he.

You idly think about how much  _ easier _ this would be if Wolffe just wore his damn greys out more as you pry more of the armor away. You finally manage to remove enough to pull his blacks down, one hand keeping the material back while the other dips between his legs, ghosting over his cock with just a brush of your fingertips.

Wolffe jerks at the motion, knee bouncing - you bump your head against the table and pinch his thigh in response.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, and you feel the rumble from his apology. He cards a hand through your hair, minding the spot you just hit, and leans further back into the booth to allow you a bit more room. His legs widen and you move yourself fully between them, idly tracing the shape of his shaft with your fingertips. 

The hard and swollen cock twitches and you lick your lips in appreciation. One hand still keeps the blacks pulled away as you begin to pump him up and down, a slow pace that contradicts the beat of the music pounding throughout the bar. You move down to his base then up and over the tip again, causing Wolffe to thrust into your hand. 

As you glance upward, you see the way his jaw is tight and smirk, increasing your pace to see the corner of his mouth twitch. He’s given you complete control here, allowing you to cause his downfall as you tentatively lick at his tip, precum oozing from the head. The muscles in his thigh tighten and you feel his whole body tense at the motion - it’s then that you adjust yourself to fully take him into your mouth, tongue flat against the underside of his shaft. 

You always enjoy how much he fills you, be it your mouth or your  _ other _ holes. You stretch as much as you can, relaxing your jaw as you bob up and down, your spit coating his length. It takes you a few minutes of working at Wolffe’s cock for you to be able to take most of it in your mouth with ease. His head hits the back of your throat and you feel the commander thrust into your mouth; if only he could get a good look at the way your pretty lips looked wrapped around his cock.

You sigh, content with your mouth filled under a table at 79’s. The vibrations cause Wolffe to thrust into your mouth a bit harder, goosebumps spreading over his skin. 

He bites his fist as he leans against the booth, hips rolling against your mouth as you work to take as much as you can. The warmth and wetness contrasts to the air as you bob fully up and down his length, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. Wolffe loves making a mess out of you, but not being able to see it drives him a bit differently - his thrusts are a bit wilder as he feels your nails press into his thighs. 

“Commander Wolffe!”

Shit.

You freeze, recognizing Captain Rex’s voice, your mouth full with Wolffe’s cock.

“Captain Rex,” Wolffe sputters, sitting up straight. 

You quickly adjust with him, hands on his knees as you remain still. At this angle, he’s  _ completely _ in your mouth and you have to breathe around him to compensate for his head at the back of your throat. 

“I didn’t expect you to be here. Thought you’d be out elsewhere with —“ Rex starts, gesturing to Wolffe. A smirk plays across his lips and Rex notices the multiple empty glasses and the way his face seems flushed, lipstick smeared across his cheek.

“Oh! Sh-She’s here,” he stammers, “jus’ stepped out to the refresher.” 

Rex raises an eyebrow, but takes the answer as he stands in front of the table, hands on his hips. “That so? Mind if I join you then?”

You panic, and swallow around the softening head - Wolffe jerks slightly, clearing his throat.

“Maybe - Maybe another time, yeah? I promised we’d uh - we’d be leaving soon.”

“Next time, then. Just be careful gettin’ back, yeah? Y’look a little out of it,” Rex laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe she  _ can _ out drink you?!”

You smile, pulling back to lap at the tip, tongue flat against the underside of his shaft.

Wolffe makes a choked sort of noise, setting his jaw. “Not so sure about that,” he frowns, shaking his head. “Pretty sure there’s been plenty of times she’s outdone you.”

“Maybe, Commander, maybe,” Rex says, turning back towards the thrumming crowd with a wave.

Wolffe quickly winds a hand in your hair and pulls you off his cock, bending to look under the table.

“You are in a lot of trouble for that, my alor’ika,” he growls, fist tightening around the hair he’s grabbed. 

You blink up at him, smiling as you finally wipe the drool from your chin. “Ah… That so? I didn’t think I did anything wrong…” You try to bite back the smirk gracing your features as you gently tuck his cock back behind his blacks, reassembling his armor. 

Wolffe’s eyes narrow before he lets go of your hair, leaning back in the booth. 

You climb out and sit beside him, stretching out after being so trapped under the table. You roll your neck, popping sounds muffled by the blaring music. 

“We’ll finish this later,” he whispers into your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Away from prying eyes.”

You preen at the kiss, a devilish smile gracing your features. “Next time,” you murmur, a hand on his thigh as you lean in the booth, “I’m going to make you finish.”

Wolffe clenches his fist, his face twisting in a mix between a scowl and  _ incredibly turned on _ . He hardens under the armor, at the thought of you finishing him in the club, kneeling on the ground under a table and --

Why the  _ kriff  _ did Rex have to ruin his fun?


End file.
